That's right, leave ut the important details, Rapaire--like writing your own ransom note and using one of Mom's lace handkerchiefs to disguise your voice on the phone pretending to be one of your own kidnappers. But you know what gave it away? Including peanut-butter-and-broccoli sandwiches -- 100 of them -- in your ransom demands. It had to be you. And when it turned out you had been holing up at Saskatchewan Sukie's bordello waiting for the loot, Mom nearly cried, she was so disappointed in your behaviour.

Well Mom, this will be the last you hear from me for a while. You take care and I'll try to be back soon. I can't say more, except that Amos didn't come up with the ransom like he told you he would.

But don't cry, dear Mother. Even though they shove burning splinters under my fingernails again, even though they chop off my fingers and toes joint by joint, even though they make me listen to "Muskrat Love" all day and all night, I will focus on you and I will pull through because what I learned at your knee has given me the strength to pull through because I know that it could be worse. And remember, it's all Amos' fault that I will be a crippled wreck, my keen mind dulled to the level of a Southern Californian. The next time you hear from me I'll probably be panhandling, if I survive at all.

Gawd, Rapaire, don't you know when to quit? You have been identified, called out, nailed, labeled and made, dude. We know you are pretending to torture yourself to try and get Mom to come up with ransom money so you can bilk her of her life savings and cut the sibs out of the will. Forget it, dude. The jig is up, so to speak. The cat's out of the bag. The bishop has left the church and Elvis has left the building. It's all over. Get a life, and a real job, why don't you?

Ah, dear, who knows. In the classic tradition of post-MOAB obscurantism he has made only dark mutterings about being "away" leaving no there there for his friends to imagine him. I know he fights hard against his reputation as a Momma's boy and tries to act all strange and darkling, but sometimes he just takes it too far.

It's his persistent denial of the reality of Shane McBride that has brought him to this sorry pass. He's been insisting for a couple of years now that Shane is dead when the lad is 100% alive and in fine fettle, irritating local women, storeowners, and police officers in the Blind River and Sudbury area, and being a shiftless layabout in classic fashion. Rapaire has clearly lost touch with reality. It's sad. Maybe shock therapy would bring him around.

The fact that you are not following in the inaginary footsteps of an imaginary ne'er-do-well does not mean that your connection with the real world is particularly sound, monsieur!! Viva la difference!

I am going to breathe a sigh of relief, my fran', and celebrate your grip on reality. Skol!! Prosit!! L'Chaim!! May you find a loving companion to be your steadfast companion here on the mortal coil throughout your years.

It flippin' looks good on you, man. All Yer flippin' liesw and mizdeeds finally flippin' caugt up with you, eh? Awwwwwww...that is TOO bad, eh? Awwwwwwww....I almost got a tear in my eye jsut thinkin' about you there rottin' behind the prizon bars.

HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!

I hope they never flippin' let you out, man. I will send you a card every Kristmas to remind you that I am out and you are IN...yuo looser!

Man, this is great. Party time, eh? Don says he thinks it is pretty funny too. We are gonna invite everyone we knows and have a big bash and all laff at you, man. Too bad you won't be there, eh? Don't worry, cos I will take care of all yer drinks myself.

Ya know, I sweat and strain to bring up creative, original couplets for Mom's delectations. And all I get is abuse. Really, it makes me stat to wonder why I exert myself so. You think writing stuff like that is easy or something?????

Oh, Amos, Amos, Amos!!! I weep for you!! What concatenacious imperception of the truth!!! Here you were doing so well, too!!!

Shane EXISTS in the unseen fabric of the Cosmos, vibrating in the Music of the Spheres. He exists as an eternal archetype, out there somewhere in the universal matrix. If I had not brought him forth, someone else would have, because he IS real, and I know that. It is my finely attuned mental machinery combined with my evanescent spiritual powers which have made me AWARE of Shane's existence, every bit of which is God's own design and creation...not mine.

And why did God invent Shane? Well, it's a bit of a conundrum, but I suppose it was just "because". ;-) If it can be, then it is. And Shane can be, therefore, he is.

Even worse things can be! Just thinking about it keeps me awake some nights, knowing that they must all be out there somewhere in the Divine Potential ready to manifest at some unforseen eventuality, but I have chosen not to write about them. After all, in doing so I would be summoning them forth! It's an awesome responsibility. If Steven King had given that a bit more thought, he might not have inflicted so many of those creepy horror stories on the world.

Dear Mom I am traveling far over the pass, To a land where the mountains are frozen like grass Where the trees they are withered, and breath it is lost, And the wild high plateaus die at night from the frost.\

I'll take my belongings, my wife and guitar ANd trek o'er the high Eastern mountains so far, Across the wild desert, leave El Centro behind And cross the Colorado, Arizona in mind.

The to the high country like a shaft from a bow, Through the cold desert night to the North I shall go, Where the cool Verde Valley lies in sunset's cool glow And the snowcaps of Flagstaff look down on below.

So fare thee well, Moab, and fare-thee-well friends, All my BS companions, I from posting forfend To the high desert prairies I travel away, ANd I dare not malinger to hear what you say.

If e'er I return, it will be with a sigh, ANd hopes you have managed to keep Mother high, For sad it would be, to return from the sage, And learn our poor Mother had fell from the page.

Pray keep her full stoked, with a good flow of air, Keep Little Hawk real, and pray rescue Rapaire, And when I return from my travels out yon, Let me not find my old friends of MOAB are gone.

mom ib usted him out but had to kill some pple; hes gone over the top and beleeves he is in maryland but i have a friend will; get him on some ritalin which will calm him down enough to fly him back to the nearest i state. his i is not in good state right now. do not tell cops you have heard from me as they think i am in arizona somewhere.

I wonder if either Amos or Rapaire is posting these guest posts? I think the freds are behind this. Maybe both of them are jameed down some fred test tube for DNA tests. Don't tell MOM. We'll see if Gluon can track them down.

Amos was injured in the rescue. It certainly was a sight to see: Amos parachuting out of the sky, an Uzi in each hand blazing away, bad guys running or being shot down. Amos must have gotten quite excited because he missed his drop zone and landed smack dab in an access hole to the sewer.

Turns out I was being held in an old Army base formerly used for chemical warfare experiments. The baddy laddies had just opened the sewer to toss me in when Amos dropped by. I did manage to pull him out and rinse him off somewhat, but he has these really ugly splotches and things from the chemicals still in the old sewer all over him AND I think it affected his DNA as he seems to be growing a new arm out of the top of his head.

But he's recovering in a secret hospital at the USMC boot camp in San Diego and I'm with my mother-in-law in Silver Spring, not much the worse for the experience.

While you're off trekking the sewer by-ways, I got MOM a good brunch. We had a nice spiral ham and some country-style baking powder biscuits with homemade jelly and a salad and some fruit. She's gone in to take a nap.

She said to tell you boys not to track that stinky stuff into the house.

Little Hawk, MOM has a soft spot in her heart for your pragmatic approach to BS. Just because Rap and Amos duke it out thinking each is MOM's favorite doesn't mean she actually HAS a favorite. But she always sits up and notices when you post. :)